


Drunk Zach is Drunk

by eff_reality



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 02:09:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2211798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eff_reality/pseuds/eff_reality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Zach drunk dials Chris while away because he misses him and he's ridiculously adorable when he's drunk and Chris is totally smitten with him and alllll the fluffy cute feels?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunk Zach is Drunk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thatmysticbafflingwonder (babykid528)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babykid528/gifts).



"Permission to come aboard, Captain?" a voice that sounds just a little too drunk to be Spockish drawls.

Chris pulls his phone away from his ear, looking at the scrambled “Unknown” number, and giggles. “Zachary. To what do I owe this dubious pleasure?”

"Four margaritas. I got started early, bitches!"

"Oh my God." Chris cradles his cell between his ear and shoulder, and swipes his hand over his face. "You’re annihilated." He dogears the corner of his current page and flips his copy of _The Mockingbird Next Door_ over his thigh, face-down. “It’s not even seven there. What’s wrong with you, man?”

Chris is anything but annoyed, though. Of all of Zach’s modes (and there are many), there are few he loves more than three-sheets-to-the-wind Zach. What can he say? He likes Zach affectionate and sentimental, with his defenses down.

"I’m just celebrating life. And friends. You’re a wonderful friend, Christopher. The best." Zach’s voice gets close, like he’s cupping his hand over his phone.

"Yeah, yeah." Chris’ cheeks already hurt from smiling.

"No, really. I mean it." Zach sounds suddenly, comically serious. "We knew each other before all of this… bullshit."

Chris giggles at that, too; Zach doesn’t swear too often, and it sounds distorted in his mouth. “What bullshit, Zach?”

"Press tours and paparazzi and fucking… models and GQ covers and shit. You knew me before I came out."

"I did." Chris can’t help but notice the mention of the word _models_ , as in both his and Zach’s. “Are you with anyone?”

Zach starts a word, a breathy one, then stops. “Yeah, I mean—”

"No, I don’t mean—I mean, are you alone, right now?"

"Yes," Zach says definitively. He sounds relieved to not have to talk about Miles. "Making my way home. On my gazelle legs, as you like to call them."

Chris flushes. He didn’t think Zach would remember such an off-handed (drunken) remark from him, from press tour numero uno, but maybe the margaritas have jogged his memory. His protective streak kicks in, surprising him. “Stay on the phone until you get in, and let me know when you do.”

"Yes, Captain."

Chris smiles fondly. “I miss you, Quinto. Home is not the same without you.” He means LA, but he could very well mean his actual home for how much time Zach spent here when he was still a west coast man.

"I miss you, too, pumpkin," Zach leers, sending Chris into a giggling fit again. "Send photo."

"What on earth…?"

"I miss your face," Zach insists. "Send me a photo of yourself."

"Right now?"

"Yes, Captain."

"O-kay, weirdo," Chris says, but he’s charmed by the request. It takes him far too long, in Zach’s estimation, to even pull up the camera on his iPhone. "I never use this thing!" he protests, fumbling through all the apps before reaching his destination. He snaps himself making an atrocious face and texts it to Zach immediately.

He knows Zach’s gotten it by the uncharacteristically inelegant, hyena laugh coming through the receiver. “I just don’t understand why you never made Man of the Year,” he manages between cackles.

"Fuck you. You know, apparently I am crushed on by none other than Chilli from TLC. A reporter told me."

“ _What?_ " It sounds like Zach nearly drops his phone. "That’s insane. You need to make that happen. And send photo. I would totally fuck her."

"Oh my God. We need to get you home, now."

"Almost there," Zach insists, breathless like he’s climbing stairs. "Are you gonna tuck me in?"

Chris inhales, hesitating. They’ve been teetering until now (like always), but this is tipping into dangerous territory. That is, if one of them doesn’t end the call soon. “I’m afraid getting you through your front door will be the extent of my services for tonight, Zach.”

A brief silence. “Very well, Captain.”

Chris closes his eyes, gathering courage. Not difficult when Zach is plastered. “But ask me again when your model’s out of the picture.”

Another silence. “I will,” Zach says quietly. Then: “I’m home.”

“‘Night, Zach. I miss your face, too.”

“‘Night, Pine.” Zach hangs up.

Chris stares at his phone for a good minute before setting it back on the bedside table and taking up his book again. He’s only a paragraph in before it buzzes, a photo of a drunk Zach blowing a kiss at the camera flashing on the screen.


End file.
